The Saga of the Homeless Oak Ridge Boy (Part IV)

The homeless guy that throws trash at me when I come out to go to work in the morning is gone.

I have no idea where he's gone, or what he'll do, or if he's throwing trash at someone else, but since I asked him about The Oak Ridge Boys, he has not returned to his post outside my building.

I can't help but think that had I not crossed the line and spoke to him directly, our relationship would not now be over.

Damn it!

The boundaries were well defined. Why did I do it?

I was an inside dweller, an outlander in his world. I -- of the freshly shaven face, and the neatly folded newspaper, and delicious-smelling coffee -- was the thorn in his side, the bane of his existence.

Oh, cruel fate. Cruel, cruel fate.

But we were simpatico on a certain level as well. For who else would receive the banana peel on the shirt in such good humor as I? Who else could dodge the plastic water bottles, and the bags of cat litter, and the big circular trash can lid with such grace and appreciation?

The dance was not big, but it was beautiful. It was real. And it was ours.

Some might say I was his antithesis, but I don't know if that's entirely true. It could be. I don't know. God, I just don't know.

Perhaps he did see me as a demon of sorts. Perhaps I was a Fisher King type of spirit whose evil existed only in his wine-addled mind. Perhaps the trash he threw was his only weapon, his sword against a vile beast from beyond the locked doors and curtained windows. It's not completely implausible considering the circumstances and his quirky demeanor.

Still, it's difficult to accept that he saw me as a monster. There was never any conflict between us. There was never any intentional ill will on my part. Were I his demon, I must have seemed the friendliest demon he'd ever encountered.

On the other hand, maybe to him I was a god, and the pieces of melon rind and tuna fish cans were his sacrifices unto me.

But if the sadness I feel and the anxiety about the loss of my nemesis are what gods must endure, I shall reign on high for no homeless man again for as long as I draw breath. I am out of the god business.

I am so tired.

Oh, little bearded trash man. I miss you, pal. Perhaps you really are just on the road, singing with The Oak Ridge Boys. I'll go on believing that you are.

Dude, Geckos.

Conversation between me and my stoner friend.

Stoner Friend: I'm totally diggin' geckos, man. Those little guys are so cool.

Me: Yeah. Geckos are pretty cool, I guess.

SF: Pretty cool? Dude, they do all kinds of cool stuff.

Me: Like what?

SF: Like, they crawl around. And they eat bugs.

Me: Yeah. I suppose that's pretty cool.

SF: But they do other stuff, too. Like when they see you, they stop crawling, and act like a leaf or a stick. And then when you try to touch them, they haul ass again.

Me: They are fast.

SF: Man, they're super fast.

Me: Definitely hard to catch.

SF: Yeah. But their little gecko brains don't understand things like boundaries and limitations. Sometimes they crawl right into a corner with no way to get out. And once they get trapped in a corner, you can touch them and pick them up and have fun with them. You can make jokes about insurance, or talk to them in what you think would be a gecko voice. My gecko voice sounds kind of like Marvin the Martian from the cartoons.

{Demonstrates gecko voice.}

SF: And the coolest thing about geckos is the way they look.

Me: What do you mean?

SF: They sort of have these pink and blue squiggly designs on their skin along their backs that look like veins or a map of the Amazon or something.

Me: The Amazon? That's funny.

SF: Dude . . . Amazon.

Me: Dude? . . . Dude . . .

SF: I know, man. My boy sent down the uber dank. I'm so chill.

Me: ???

SF: The weird thing is, the geckos that crawl on my porch are almost transparent. It's like they're either not done getting all their color, or they're not done turning completely invisible.

Me: Oh, I know what you mean. Some look kind of pinkish, but you can see their skeletons with a flashlight.

SF: 'Member that movie about the cute little extraterrestrial that got stranded on Earth and had to survive while a bunch of humans were trying to capture it?

Me: Yeah, I remember that one.

SF: It was great. I loved the scenes where the hero had to kill those mesomorphic retards in the jungle.

Me: Umm . . .

SF: And to help him in dangerous situations, he becomes completely transparent. You know, like you could kind of see his outline, but he was mostly invisible. Plus he had lasers and bombs and stuff to defeat the meat-heads. But his best defense was invisibility.

Me: Yeah. You know, I think you're confusing two diff--

SF: --Anyway, my theory is that geckos are baby ones.

Me: Baby ones?

SF: Baby aliens. We can still see them when they're small, because they haven't finished developing yet. But when they grow up . . . whoa man. Probably right now, all around us there are huge, 8 foot invisible geckos, crawling around, eating bugs.

Me: It might be time for an intervention.

SF: Hey, if you're a muscle-bound war monger and you ever find yourself in the jungle, watch out, my friend. The geckos are gonna get ya.

Me: I'll be careful.

SF: Man, I gotta get my snack on. Soon. I wonder what geckos taste like.

I Can Eat Fifty Eggs

Much like Cool Hand Luke, I've discovered over the years that I can eat a freakish amount of food.

Yesterday, I ate so much, I actually frightened myself.

It was a beautiful spring weekend here in Texas, and I was out participating in various strenuous activities for two days straight, only taking the time to nosh here and there when I needed to sustain myself.

Well, I finally sat down last night and relaxed, and my belly started rumbling in earnest, so I fixed myself a nice meal. Only I didn't stop after one round of feasting. I went back in for munch after munch.

I often tell the joke that gluttony is a good thing, taken in moderation. Last night I went beyond gluttony. Gluttony was two exits back on the expressway before I realized I had past it. Gluttony is a mere appetizer for me. Gluttony is a skinny little school girl who trembles in my presence.

I could have starred in a circus side show.

COME SEE THE AMAZING HAIRLESS APE STUFF ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING INTO HIS FACE!

THERE IS NOTHING HE WON'T EAT!

WARNING! Unless you wish to lose a finger or a limb, please stay clear of the cage at all times.

Here's what I consumed:

1. 4 jumbo eggs, scrambled with cheddar and salsa wrapped in tortillas
2. A ham, turkey, balogna, swiss, and provolone sandwich with lettuce, onions, tomatoes, pickles, and avocado.
3. Half a bag of Doritos plain corn chips
4. About 5 ounces of leftover tuna on saltines
5. A banana, a Three Musketeers bar, and some Planter's peanuts.

The entire time, I felt like I should be squatting naked on a rock, tearing pieces of raw flesh from the bone. It was a very primal experience. But then I looked at my distended belly, all bulging and shiny and it became a religious experience.

Maybe I should join one of those competitive eating organizations.

I am the grubmaster!!